


Sounds of Silence

by Lynda Sappington (HowNovel)



Category: Starman (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1988-03-07
Updated: 1988-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNovel/pseuds/Lynda%20Sappington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul and Scott discover a new form of communication -American Sign Language<br/>-- and help a recently deafened woman regain her self-confidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounds of Silence

Many thanks to professional deaf interpreter Sherry Miller, Dayton, Ohio, for her invaluable assistance, advice, information, and for teaching me so much and so well.

Copyright (c) March 1988, Abraxan. Material contained herein may not be reprinted without the express permission of the author. "The Sounds of Silence" is a non-profit, amateur publication written for the enjoyment of STARMAN fans, and is not meant to infringe upon copyrights held by Henerson-Hirsch and Michael Douglas Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, or ABC-TV.

 

The Sounds of Silence  
A STARMAN Story by Abraxan

 

It was a beautiful sunny day in the early spring, with the trees just beginning to send out bright new leaves, and the flowers blooming lavishly in the yards of the small town. The man and boy matched long strides down the quiet street. The man was wearing a dark leather flight jacket, a blue-and-yellow plaid shirt, and comfortably faded jeans. He carried a duffle bag, with a camera case slung over his shoulder. He was tall, fairly thin but broad-shouldered, with longish dark hair and a handsome, gentle face. His deep-set, wide blue eyes were peaceful and innocent, yet so wise. The boy was almost as tall as his father, somewhere in his mid-teens, dark hair curling over his ears and collar. His dark eyes twinkled with good humor, but had a wisdom beyond his years. He was at that "coltish" stage, when kids seem to be all long arms and legs. The jean jacket he wore was well-broken in and comfortable, as were his jeans and polo shirt, the way teens love for them to be. The backpack now swinging from his shoulder was lumpy with all his worldly possessions. This pair moved around constantly, so they travelled lightly.

As they walked down the street toward a park, they saw a small group of people gesturing wildly at each other. Paul's eyes widened in alarm.

"Scott! Those people are going to start a fight!" exclaimed Paul.

"No, Dad," Scott chuckled. "That's deaf sign language. I saw it on TV. They can't hear, so they talk with their hands. It's kinda like Indian sign language. Each movement means something."

Paul stopped and considered what Scott had told him. "But if they can't hear, does that mean they can't talk either? I didn't think the ears and the voice were connected."

"I don't know, Dad. I told you, I just saw it on TV a few times. Sometimes they have somebody in a corner of the screen during the news doing sign language, and I remember when I was little seeing it on Big Bird."

Paul looked quizzically at Scott. "Define 'Big Bird', Scott."

"Good grief! Big Bird is a character on a kids' show I used to watch. It taught you your ABCs and stuff. Big Bird is an 8-foot-tall canary."

"A canary 8 feet tall!" Paul's eyes widened in shock as he turned to stare at Scott.

"Dad, it's a Muppet—like Kermit and Miss Piggy, you know?" The look on Paul's face had Scott rapidly getting a case of the giggles.

Paul looked relieved. "Oh. Well. That's different."

"Yeah, right, different! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

The deaf group noticed Paul and Scott's approach, and Scott's obvious glee over something, and began to sign and laugh among themselves at Scott's antics. Paul watched with fascination the quick, graceful motions of their hands and the expressiveness of their faces as they communicated with each other. He was startled to hear one of them speak to another as she signed.

"Well, he certainly had HIS funny bone tickled today." she said and signed to her companion. She noticed Paul's startled look as he stared at her.

"I didn't know you could talk!" he said.

"Oh, I'm their interpreter. I can hear just fine. It's my job to help them communicate with hearing people, and hearing people to communicate with them," she responded. "What got him so tickled?" she asked, pointing to Scott.

"He wasn't tickled. Nobody touched him. He said something he thought was funny, or maybe I did, or something. I'm never quite sure. Teenagers, you know?" Paul shrugged and smiled.

"How did you learn to do that?" Paul continued, indicating the signing the woman was continuing as she spoke with him. She was interpreting their conversation for the woman with whom she'd been speaking before his arrival.

"I had a friend with a deaf sister, and I had learned a lot from her. Then I took classes to learn more so I could become an interpreter. Deaf people are intelligent, interesting people, but they're so cut off from all kinds of communication. I hated it when my friend got left out of conversations because of her deafness. It's so unkind to stand there talking and having fun and leave one person out. I decided I wanted to make a difference with my life, to contribute something, and this is my way to do that."

"My name's Paul Forrester and this is my son Scott. I'm a photographer. Could I get some pictures of you doing your work?"

"Sure, why not? I work at a school for the deaf just down the street. Why don't you come down there and see all the phases of our work with the deaf? My name's Rebecca Patrick." Rebecca was about 40, of medium height, with brown hair that swung freely about her shoulders, and sparkling green eyes. She had a warm, friendly, caring charm about her that made most people instantly like her. She and Paul moved off down the sidewalk with the deaf people toward the school. Two attractive teenaged deaf girls were trying to talk to Scott with signs, amidst much giggling.

"What are they saying?" Scott asked Rebecca finally, in desperation.

"Well, Sherry says you're cute, and Mindee says you're funny, and Sherry says Mindee's a nerd, and ... Well, you know how kids talk." Rebecca laughed.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Scott looked in confusion from one girl to the other, then he and both girls burst out laughing.  
  
---  
  
"This is where we teach some of our interpreters' and deaf adult classes. It's much different teaching adults than teaching little children who were either born deaf or became deaf very early. Before learning sign language, these children have virtually no way of communicating what they want besides pointing and making noises. If we can get them started here by age three, they will learn very quickly, once the concepts start being understood. We try to get their parents to learn to sign, so the child's skills will be reinforced at home," Rebecca explained, as she showed Paul around the school.

"You said, 'We try to get their parents to learn to sign.' What did you mean? Is it hard for the parents to learn?" Paul asked.

"No, but it's awful how many of them simply REFUSE to try! Some just don't see the real need to learn. There are many, many families where the parents, brothers and sisters, everyone simply won't try to learn to sign. Many parents don't seem to understand that without sign language they really have no way of communicating with their child. Written notes just aren't enough, and the child has to learn to read before that's effective. By the time the child is a teenager, the parents MAY realize the need to communicate, but by that time it may be too late to build the relationship they need to have with their child. The deaf child is so terribly alone in the family group that has that attitude, and there are far too many like that." Rebecca sighed.  
  
---  
  
Paul wandered through the building alone now, taking pictures as he went, smiling and charming the people he met into cooperating with him. He had learned quite a few signs from Rebecca, and more from watching the deaf people's conversations. He was communicating with them better and better as he went along.

Paul stopped in the cafeteria and watched quietly as the people in the serving line talked and signed with each other. There were people of all ages in line, from young children to elderly people. Paul was amazed at the variety of sounds they made as they signed. Some actually spoke, but their words sounded strange, and their voices had unusual inflections. He had always been enchanted with the "music" of human voices. He found the difference of these people's voices from hearing people's to be like the difference between the songs of meadowlarks and the calls of seagulls. Each musical in its own way, each also had a special quality that set it apart from the other. With his interest in the incredible variety of human language, Paul had quickly learned this form of communication. He found it fascinating that so many of the deaf made sounds or spoke as they signed. Seeing Rebecca coming into the room, he asked her about it.

"We try to teach total communication to all our students," Rebecca told Paul. "Some actually learn to speak pretty well, so they can communicate fairly easily with hearing people, especially if they've gotten to be good at lip—reading. Not all deaf people can learn these skills, though. That's why there will always be a need for interpreters."

Rebecca and Paul got into the serving line. She was shocked to see Paul communicating fluently with the servers, asking for what he wanted and thanking them.

"I thought you didn't know anything about sign language!" she exclaimed.

Paul looked at her in confusion for a moment. "Sign language is so logical, like pictures you make with your hands and face. Am I doing it the right way?"

"Yes, it's excellent. The only thing you need to change is to say the word as you're signing it, to help clarify what you mean. Some signs mean more than one thing. You can say it aloud, or silently, it doesn't matter. The shape of your mouth, your facial expression and your body language all help to convey your meaning. But I've never heard of anyone learning it so quickly!"

Paul shrugged. "I guess I've always been good with languages. I'm glad I'm doing it correctly. Sign language is beautiful. I'm glad I've gotten the chance to learn it."

As Paul turned to the cashier to pay for his meal, Rebecca gazed at him with wonder lighting her face. Never in all her experience with signing had she ever heard of anyone learning so quickly.  
  
---  
  
After lunch, Paul continued exploring the deaf school. He came upon a young woman in a room filled with flowers. She was attractive, with medium-length blond hair and clear blue eyes. She might have been in her early 30s. She looked like the kind of person who loved to cuddle up in front of a fireplace with a cat in her lap. At the moment, she was snuggled up in a big couch filled with loose pillows, doing some embroidery.

Paul got her attention, and, indicating his camera, said, "Hi. May I take your picture?" He smiled warmly at her. She looked at him awhile, warily. Then something in her seemed to soften, and she began slowly to smile, just a little, and almost imperceptibly nodded her head. Paul took several shots from various angles, then sat on the couch next to her.

"What are you making?" he asked, looking at her embroidery. Feeling her touch his arm, he looked up at her. She looked at him questioningly, then hesitantly said, "If I can see you speak, I can understand you. I read lips better than sign, but it helps if you speak slowly. What did you say?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." He indicated the embroidery. "It's beautiful," he said. The woman smiled her pleasure at his appreciation of her work.

"Who are you?" she asked in a quiet voice. "Why did you want to take my picture?"

"My name is Paul." Paul spoke very distinctly, so Lisa could understand him more easily. "I'm a photographer, and I m interested in the work being done here. That's why I'm taking pictures. What is that you're making?"

"It's just something to keep me busy, I guess. I love all the arts, and embroidery is one art I can still do."

"You speak very well, This must be a very good school to teach you to speak so naturally."

"It is a good school, one the best, but I've only been deaf a few months. I lost my hearing in an accident. It's just so strange, having to suddenly change my entire life." She sighed, then brightened. "Tell me about your photography. What are you taking these pictures for?"

"I take pictures of lots of things, and sell them to newspapers and magazines. I don't know what I'll do with these yet. I saw Rebecca out with a group and it interested me, so I started taking pictures."

"Are you famous? That's a pretty fancy-looking camera."

"Well ... I just like to take pictures. That's how I support my son and myself."

"You have a son? How old is he?"

"Scott's 15. He's visiting with the kids here at the school right now."

"He's not deaf, is he?"

"Oh, no. He's just having fun visiting, and he seems to be learning some sign language. Sign language is interesting, and so beautiful to see. We're both enjoying learning it."

"Yeah, people who don't HAVE to use sign language seem to get a real kick out of learning it." The young woman sounded terribly bitter. She shook her head, threw down her embroidery and stalked off across the room. Paul followed her quickly and touched her shoulder. He turned her to face him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." He paused, his hand still on her shoulder, and looked at her intently, and with great compassion. She dropped her eyes from his, as they began to fill with tears. Paul lifted her chin gently and looked into her eyes. "I can feel the hurt and confusion in you. There's great anger there, too. I wish I could help you."

"Nobody can help me! Just leave me alone!" With that, she turned and ran from the room. Paul's eyes were anguished. If only he could help.  
  
---  
  
Meanwhile, Scott was in the midst of what was rapidly becoming a party! The teenagers from the school were laughing and signing among themselves, and trying very hard to include Scott. Scott was still "surrounded" by Sherry and Mindee, and was beginning to be able to understand them, finally. He was learning how to communicate with the others fairly quickly, but he would be glad when he could learn things as easily as his dad. Someone brought in a big bowl of popcorn, and started pouring cups of pop and passing them around. Someone else put a record on the stereo, and turned the sound up full blast. Scott put his hands over his ears, as some of the teens began to dance.

"WHOA! That HURTS!" Scott exclaimed. Sherry and Mindee laughed, and handed Scott some disposable ear plugs for his ears.

"Thanks, but why do you keep ear plugs in here if the sound won't hurt your ears?"

Rebecca Patrick had walked up behind Scott as he was speaking. "We keep them around for people like you and me who all this sound WILL hurt. They have to have it loud enough, and the bass turned up high enough that they can feel the floor vibrate so they can dance." she shouted.

"AW-RIGHT! I LOVE to dance!" Sherry and Mindee were already leading Scott closer to the stereo, where the other kids were dancing, laughing and enjoying themselves.

Paul came in, and began photographing the happy group of dancing teens.

"It's kinda loud in here. Want some ear plugs?" Rebecca asked.

"What? I can't hear you. This music is hurting my ears." Paul replied.

Rebecca laughed, handed him some ear plugs, and gestured toward her ears.

"What? Oh. Thank you." Paul responded, as he gratefully inserted the plugs. "That's much better."

"Looks like Scott is having a really good time, doesn't it?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes. He doesn't get much chance to spend time with kids his own age. We move around a lot." Paul smiled as he watched the kids happily enjoying themselves. "May I talk with you, someplace else? This is a little noisy for me." Paul said.

"Sure. Follow me." Rebecca led him into a quiet office, away from the music and laughter of the young people. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I was wondering, what happened to that young woman who lost her hearing just a few months ago? I met her in the room with flowers. She was doing embroidery."

"That would be Lisa Hall. She had an accident that injured her aural nerves, apparently beyond repair. She's been to a lot of doctors about it."

"What are the 'aural nerves'? How did she injure them?" Rebecca moved to the shelves behind the desk, pulled down a book, and opened it to an illustration of the ear.

"These are Dr. Davies' books, but she has shown me these pictures many times, and explained the various forms of deafness to me, and how everything works. I hope I can explain it well enough for you."

As she explained the function of the various parts of the ear, and how Lisa had been injured, Paul concentrated on the picture. He remained engrossed in the illustration long after Rebecca finished her explanation.  
  
---  
  
In their motel room that night, Scott and Paul were eating some Chinese food. There were small white containers all over the table. Paul was struggling with chopsticks.

"Are you sure people can actually EAT with these, Scott? I don't see how that's possible!"

"Come on, Dad, I told you they just put those things in there for fun. Just use your fork instead." Scott was busily stuffing himself with an eggroll. He almost choked himself with laughter as he glanced up to see bean sprouts cascading off Paul's chopsticks, and Paul trying to catch them as they fell.

"I want to figure out how they work, that's all. It's a wonder people who use these things don't starve to death. There must be a trick to it." In desperation, Paul finally sighed, put down the chopsticks and picked up his fork. "I guess if I'm going to get anything to eat before it all gets cold, I'll just have to use something I understand. I never thought of forks as being high technology before." He paused thoughtfully. "What an amazing variety of things people have invented. Do you realize that taco shells and eggroll and burrito wrappers, whatever they are called, are all just ways to make different kinds of sandwiches? Stuff you can hold in your hands, I mean, like the bread of a sandwich makes it a lot easier and less messy to get the meat, cheese, lettuce and tomato into your mouth."

"Yeah, or you could just use a FORK to get it into your mouth!" Scott replied.

Paul chuckled. "Yes, I guess you could. Did you have a good time with those kids today, Scott?"

"Yeah, it was neat. I felt kinda weird at first, because I didn't know what they were talking about. Made me feel kinda dumb to be left out."

"Just think, they must feel like that all the time in a group of hearing people. I'm glad someone invented sign language, so the deaf aren't so left out."

"Yeah, me too, and it's neat to watch. I learned a bunch of signs today. You know how to sign 'weird'? Or 'kids'?" Scott showed him several signs and explained their meanings. They laughed as they juggled forks, chopsticks and sign language all at the same time.  
  
---  
  
"These pictures are really good, Dad. You can really get an idea of how these deaf people feel. The old Paul Forrester couldn't have done any better!"

"Well, thank you, Scott," Paul said, with a slight bow. "I HAVE been working hard to get better. That's high praise, coming from you. I do want to go back there and get a few more. I forgot to get the photo releases signed, too."

"Again?"

"You were kinda busy, and it's your job to remind me, you know. I never said I was a genius. I'm just a pilot, trying to be a photographer."

"'Methinks thou dost protest too much!'" Scott laughed.

"WHAT?"

"HA! And you thought I hadn't been studying. That's Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare?"

"Yeah, well, actually, the quote is, 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks', but nobody remembers it that way, I guess. HAMLET, Act III, Scene 2. I did my homework!" Paul looked at Scott as if amazed, then they both burst out laughing.  
  
---  
  
The morning newspaper had just a brief statement, a filler at the end of a column, on an inside page. "Pulitzer—prize winning photographer Paul Forrester was at the Lanier School for the Deaf yesterday doing a photographic study of the work done there. Our community is proud of this fine facility, and honored that it has been chosen for attention by such an outstanding photojournalist." An FSA operative in the area, happened across this item, and immediately sent word to George Fox. Fox and Wylie were quickly on their way to the airport, dashing to get to this small town before Forrester had a chance to get away again. It seemed to Fox that he finally had a really hot lead, after a long dry spell when he hadn't been able to get any news at all of Forrester's whereabouts.

"Wylie, did you remember to ask the police for surveillance on the school? And for them to find out where Forrester's staying, and watch that too?"

"Yes, Mr. Fox, and I alerted the county sheriff's office, and ordered the rental car, and did everything on the usual list, just like you told me."

"Good. We don't want to miss anything, not ANYTHING, that will help us catch the alien! We'll get him this time."

"'Hope springs eternal ...'", Wylie muttered to himself, shaking his head.

"What was that, Wylie?" Fox was like an over-tightened wire, fairly humming with tension.

"Oh, nothing, sir. Just talking to myself," Wylie answered with his usual calmness.

"The curse of a small mind. When you start answering yourself, they'll lock you up."

"First they have to catch me, Mr. Fox." Fox looked at Wylie in amazement. Sometimes he wondered if there wasn't more to Wylie than met the eye. Naaah, that wasn't possible!  
  
---  
  
The following afternoon, as Paul and Scott neared the deaf school, they could hear the sound of a popular song coming from the radio of a car stopped at a light. The singer's voice was like fine crystal, clear and pure and light, but with great power. Paul stopped and listened in amazement.

"I've never heard anyone sing like that, Scott. How is it possible for someone to sound that way?"

"I don't know, different people have different kinds of voices, I guess. I heard she was trained for opera before she started singing concerts and on records. That probably makes some difference in the sound too."

"Do you mean you know who is singing?"

"Sure, that's Lisa Hall, the lady you told me you met yesterday. She's won a couple of Grammys, sung movie themes, even been on MTV. She was great! Too bad she can't sing anymore."

"No wonder she's so bitter about being deaf. It must be terrible to lose such a gift."  
  
---  
  
They continued on to the school, and were happily met by the people they'd visited the day before. They spent the day learning more signs, taking pictures, and getting better acquainted with the people at the school. Paul was drawn over and over again to Lisa Hall. He understood, in a way, how she felt, and tried to express it.

"Lisa, I heard one of your songs today. I was very impressed. You have a wonderful voice."

"A lot of good it does me now, huh!" she responded bitterly.

"Lisa, I think I know a little bit about how you feel. I used to be able to fly anywhere I wanted. I had the freedom to be myself in whatever way I wanted, but through things that happened which I just couldn't help, I lost that freedom. I really miss my old life, and it's been very hard to make a new one, but it's been necessary. I have had to make a lot of adjustments to become comfortable with my new life, but I have learned to enjoy many things about my life as it is now. Accepting the way things are is the first step toward making a fresh start. You seem to think your life is over, and you aren't worth anything without your music. You seem to be afraid nobody will like you for yourself, not just because of your music. It's a scary feeling, but you can handle it. You're a special person even without your music. I like you for yourself. I'm sure other people feel the same way about you."

Lisa looked at Paul wistfully for a long moment, then seemed to shake herself awake. "What do YOU know? Who do you think you are, to try and tell me how I'm feeling!"

"I'm just someone who cares, Lisa. I don't like to see you hurting like you are. You could create magic with your music, and it has hurt you greatly to give that up. You're still special. You still have the gift of music. There must be another way for you to share it."

"If there is, I'd sure like to know it! Just stop interfering in my life, why don't you." Tearfully, Lisa stormed away.

Scott walked up to his father. "Dad, why do you keep talking to her? She gets mad at you every time." He gave his dad a perplexed look. "Why waste your effort?"

"She hurts. I wish I could help her."

"Could you? Do you understand what's wrong with her?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid I might do more harm than good if I tried."

Lisa ran across the gardens behind the school toward the woods and fields beyond, running blindly, slapping away low-hanging branches, stumbling on tree roots, running from herself and her loss, yet realizing she couldn't get away. Paul hesitated, then started after her, wanting to somehow ease her pain. She stopped beneath a huge oak tree, leaning against the trunk and sobbing. Paul approached her slowly, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. She fell sobbing on his shoulder and just held on for a very long time. When she was calmer, he turned her face up to his and looked quietly into her eyes.

"What can I do to help?" Paul asked softly.

"Nothing. I guess I've needed to let it out for awhile. It's so hard. The music is still in me, I can hear it in my head, but there's no way to let it out. The silence from outside my head drives me crazy, and the music inside my head just breaks my heart."

"I wish I could have heard you sing in person. At least you made some albums before you lost your hearing. People for years to come will remember you and your gift." Paul paused thoughtfully, then continued, "If you can hear the music in your head, why can't you sing what you're hearing?"

"I wouldn't know if it was on pitch, I couldn't be sure I was in tune with the accompaniment, I wouldn't know when the introduction was over and I should come in. I'm a professional, and I am expected, and expect myself, to do an outstanding job when I sing. I can't do any less."

"Can't you sing without instruments?"

"Sure, I have many times, but I'd be worried I wouldn't stay in tune."

"Would you sing for me?"

"Now??? Here???"

"Why not? There's nobody here to hear you but me, and I won't tell anybody if you don't do well."

Lisa looked thoughtfully at Paul for a long moment, then moved away from him a little. She sat down under the tree, and gazed off into the distance for awhile, then began quietly to sing. She never looked up at Paul, she sang as if to herself, a gentle song about love longed for, love found, love lost, and love restored. Paul stood quietly, deeply touched by the poignancy of the song, and the expressiveness with which it was sung. When she finished, Lisa continued to sit quietly looking across the fields, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. Paul sat beside her, not touching her, just letting her feel his comforting presence near. Moments later, she turned to him.

"How bad was it?" she asked hesitantly.

"It was beautiful! Your voice hasn't changed at all. You sounded just like you did on the recording I heard. You can still sing if you want to. I don't know that much about music, but I think you even stayed in tune." He watched as a small smile slowly began to form on Lisa's face. "How did it feel?"

"It felt so strange not to hear it. I could feel the vibrations, and it FELT right, but I don't trust those feelings because I can't hear how it sounds."

"You are an experienced singer. If it feels right, it probably IS right. I'm a pilot. There have been times I've had to fly by the 'feel' of the ship, instead of relying on instruments. When you know what you're doing, you can do it by the 'feel' of it."

"I'm afraid to try, Paul."

"What are you afraid of? Nobody said you had to do concerts. Singing can be done for pleasure too, can't it? Wouldn't it be a help to you just to sing for yourself?"

Lisa sat, lost in thought, for a long moment. "I've been singing for other people for years. It always gave me pleasure too, of course, but I never thought, since I lost my hearing, ..." Lisa hesitated. Paul waited patiently. She turned to him and gazed into his eyes.

"Who are you? How did you know what to say to me? Why didn't you come before, and help me through all this pain? Thank you for helping me to see things differently." She impulsively threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, then she suddenly drew back, embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"For what?" Paul laughed. Lisa had turned away from him, so he turned her to face him, and repeated, "For what?"

"I don't usually 'throw myself' at men. I'm so embarrassed!"

"Don't be. I didn't mind." He chuckled, and helped her to her feet.

As they strolled through the woods edging the garden, a strong breeze sprang up. They could tell that a sudden summer storm was on its way, as the tree branches began tossing above their heads in the gusty winds.

"We'd better hurry and get inside. It's going to rain soon," Paul said. He took Lisa's arm to help her across the rough ground. Suddenly, it was as if the sky opened, and sheets of rain poured down on them. The wind got even stronger, and Paul heard an ominous crack from overhead.

Even as he pulled the sphere from his pocket, he knew lightning was about to strike the tree near them. As the lightning struck, Paul pulled Lisa close to him, and they were surrounded by a blue glow. The lightning-struck tree exploded above their heads, and the shattered wood fell harmlessly around them. As Paul closed his hand around the sphere, the glow faded. When he started Lisa running toward the building, Paul removed his jacket and held it over their heads to protect them from the pouring rain. She kept trying to stop and face him as he hurried her along.

As they stood wet and shivering inside the building, she turned wide eyes on him and said, "What was that blue light? What was that thing in your hand? Who ARE you???"

"Please don't be frightened."

"What was that light? What happened?"

"Lightning struck the tree we were near."

"No, that light came from your hand. I saw it! Who ARE YOU?" Paul could see Lisa was getting more and more frightened.

"I'm someone who cares about you. I'd like to be your friend. I won't hurt you. Please don't be afraid."

"I don't understand. What was that thing in your hand?"

"You mean this?" He showed her the sphere, a quiet silver marble now, with no sign of the powerful blue glow about it.

"How did it light up? What is it? That tree should have killed us, if the lightning didn't. We were INSIDE that blue light! How can that be?" She was getting more agitated by the minute.

"Hold it. Now look into my eyes and tell me what you see."

Lisa hesitantly held the sphere, as if she was afraid it would burn her or something. She looked at it for awhile, then looked up at Paul again.

"Look into my eyes. What do you see?"

The sphere began to brighten in Lisa's hand. She drew back, frightened, but Paul held her still, and held his hand over the sphere in her hand. The glow increased. Lisa looked from the glowing sphere in her hand to Paul's eyes, which were lit with an inner light. She looked closer, and saw depths of space, millions of stars, and a bright blue light shining among them.

"What do you see, Lisa?"

"Stars, and a blue light. What is it I'm seeing?"

"You're seeing me, Lisa. I'm the blue light. I come from beyond the stars you know. I'm trusting you with my life, and that of my son. There are government people after us, who will lock us up if they catch us. I don't usually tell people who we are, but it seemed necessary this time. I want you to remember the good things we did and talked about this afternoon, and not to remember being frightened about a strange experience."

Lisa was quiet for a time, just staring into Paul's eyes. "You really meant it when you said you used to be able to fly wherever you wanted, didn't you?" Her voice was awestruck. After a moment, she continued, "How did you lose your freedom?"

"I was here 16 years ago. A woman named Jenny Hayden helped me, and taught me many things. I gave her a son, my son, Scott. Things happened to separate Jenny and Scott, so I had to return to help him. I love him and I need to protect him and help him find his mother, so I have to stay to take care of him."

"This thing feels so warm and good. What is it?"

"That sphere is a part of who I am."

"Part of who you are? What do you mean?"

"I don't think you'd understand even if I could explain it."

Lisa stood and just gazed at Paul in amazement. She seemed to be lost in thought, taking in the wonder of what she was discovering.

"What is that marble, ...that 'sphere' for? You used it to protect us somehow, didn't you? That's where the blue glow came from. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Can it do other things too?"

Paul smiled. "Sure. I can do lots of things with it."

"Like what?" Lisa persisted.

Paul sighed. "It has to do with how well I understand something. Beyond that, I can't explain it so you'd understand."

"If something's broken, and you knew how it was broken, could you fix it?"

"I'd have to know how it was before it was broken to be able to do it right, and there's no guarantee I could do it right even then."

"Could ... Do you think you could make me hear with it?" Lisa asked hesitantly.

"I honestly don't know, Lisa."

"I could show you in a book what's wrong with me!" Lisa exclaimed excitedly.

"I've already asked Rebecca, and she showed me what was wrong. I don't know that I understand it enough to try to do anything. I'm afraid I might do more harm than good." Paul smiled sadly at her.

"What could be worse than the way things are now? I can't hear, the doctors don't have any way to fix it, they've told me there's no hope at all. What harm could you do?" Her voice was filled with desperation.

"I don't want to cause you any harm. You have no idea how powerful this sphere can be." The glow from the sphere had long since faded, and Paul put it back in his pocket. Lisa's shoulders drooped in defeat, as she turned slowly and walked away from him.  
  
---  
  
Wylie turned from the phone in the airport lobby. "Mr. Fox, there's a report that an eerie blue light was seen near the woods behind the deaf school, just before lightning struck a tree. Then it suddenly went out. Do you suppose the lightning got the alien?"

"Wylie, I don't think anything on this earth is more powerful than that sphere. Certainly not lightning. How long ago was that reported?" Fox was grabbing his bags and coat and heading for the door, even as Wylie was getting the keys to the rental car from the agent.

"About a half-hour, they think."

"They THINK! Why, oh, WHY do they ALWAYS have incompetents for cops in these backwater towns!"

Wylie and Fox hurried to the car, and headed for the police station. Soon after their arrival, cars went streaming out of the police lot, tires squealing, rushing toward the deaf school.  
  
---  
  
Rebecca turned a concerned face to Paul. "I just got a call from the sheriff. He says you are a dangerous criminal, and I should make sure you stay here, but stay away from you. What's going on? You aren't dangerous. I trust my judgment too much to think I could be that badly mistaken about you."

"There are government men after me. I'm not dangerous. I won't hurt you or anyone else. They aren't after me for anything I've done, but for who I am." Paul looked around him in desperation. "Where's Scott? We have to leave right away."

"He was in the rec room with the kids the last time I saw him. What can I do to help?"

"I don't know. I don't want other people to get involved. I don't want to take a chance on anyone getting hurt."

"Come on, I'll help you find Scott."  
  
---  
  
Lisa ran up to Paul as he hurried down the hallway, looking for Scott.

"Paul, I'm sorry for the way I acted. Please forgive me!"

Paul continued down the hallway, "Lisa, it's OK. I'm sorry, I have to hurry and find Scott now. We have to leave."

"Why?"

"Those government people I told you about are nearby, and we have to get away."

"Let me help."

"I don't know what you can do. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Rebecca had run on ahead, and returned with Scott following her. The deaf teens were close behind.

"Dad?" Scott's face mirrored his worry.

"Fox is close. We have to go."

Just then, they heard the squeal of brakes as several cars pulled up out front. Paul and Scott looked at each other, then looked around them desperately for a way of escape. They didn't know which way to turn. Lisa grabbed Paul's arm.

"Come with me, I know a way." She started running down the hall, Paul and Scott close behind. Rebecca stayed behind and explained to the confused group of teens a plan she'd thought of.

"Open up! Police!" was heard, along with a pounding on the door. Lights flashed in the hallway, a signal to the deaf that someone was at the door. One of the deaf boys went to the door, and was rudely pushed aside by Fox, as Fox stormed into the building.

"Who's in charge here?" Fox demanded. "Where's Forrester?"

Rebecca was nowhere to be seen, and the deaf teenagers all looked at Fox and shook their heads, indicating their ears, and signing to him that they were deaf. The blaring music still spilling from the rec room just added to the confusion. The kids kept delaying Fox and the police, while Fox tried to make clear what he wanted. They continued to "not understand" Fox, making him more and more agitated by their calm refusal to TRY to understand. To them, this was a good game! Rebecca had left so there would be nobody to interpret for the police. She had told the kids to delay the police and the men with them as long as possible, and they were doing a good job.

Meanwhile, Lisa had led Paul and Scott through a service door in the back of the building, and was giving them directions for a shortcut across the fields to the train station.

"Do you have to go, Paul? I could find a place for you and Scott to stay. They wouldn't find you—I'd protect you. You've made me feel good about myself again. I haven't felt this way in such a long time. And there's so much I want to learn from you."

"I can't, Lisa. You can see how things are for Scott and me. Fox won't give up looking for us. You wouldn't be safe, and it wouldn't be fair to you."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and ran slowly down her cheeks. "I won't see you again, will I?"

"No, I don't think so. I will always remember you, Lisa. When you sing again, remember me." He kissed her gently, then turned to go.

As Paul and Scott hurried away, a policeman came around the corner of the building and spotted their retreating figures. Lisa had started after them.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" the policeman cried.

Unable to hear the warning, Lisa continued after Paul and Scott, beginning to run.

"I said, Stop!" The nervous young policeman had been told these people must under no circumstances be allowed to get away, and he was following orders the best way he could. He fired his revolver to 'wing' the fleeing figure he could barely see in the misty, gathering dusk.

As Paul and Scott turned at the sound of the shot, they saw Lisa fall. Paul pulled out his sphere and the policeman's gun became red-hot! The policeman yelped in pain, dropped the gun, turned and ran. Paul and Scott hurried back to Lisa's still form.

"How badly is she hurt, Dad?"

"She's been shot in the head, but she's still alive." The wound was above Lisa's ear. Paul examined it gently, then placed his hand over it. "The bullet didn't go in, it just cut her and damaged the bone. What a lucky shot. She could've been killed."

"Can you help her?"

"I can try." Paul placed his hand more firmly over the wound and concentrated all his energy on the sphere. The glow of the sphere lit Paul's face brightly, and Scott was startled to see his father's expression change from concentration to surprise.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"I can feel the damage to her from the shot, but I also feel an older injury, deeper inside. I think it's what caused her hearing loss."

"Can you fix her hearing, Dad?" Scott looked anxiously at his father. "Do you know enough about it?"

"I'm trying." Paul placed his hand more firmly on Lisa's head, and the sphere glowed even more brightly. Lisa's pained expression relaxed, and when Paul removed his hand, the wound was gone without a trace.

"Lisa? Wake up." Paul shook her shoulder gently.

"Dad, we've got to go. The others had to have heard that shot, or else that cop has reported by now." Scott looked around, worry clouding his face.

Paul continued to try to rouse Lisa. "Lisa, wake up. Wake up!"

"Dad. . ."

"Scott, I have to know she's all right."

"I'm all right. What happened?" Lisa began to open her eyes. Suddenly, they flew open.

"Paul? Say something. Say anything!" Lisa's voice was filled with excitement.

"Lisa ..."

"Paul," she interrupted, "I HEARD YOU! I can hear! What happened?"

Paul laughed. "You were hurt, but you're fine now. I'm so glad you can hear again!"

Lisa hugged Paul tightly. She would never know exactly what had happened, but she would always believe Paul had performed a miracle for her.

"Dad, let's go!"

"OK." Paul looked into Lisa's eyes. "Now remember, when you sing again, and you WILL, remember me."

"I will never forget you, Paul!" Lisa kissed him tenderly, then let him go, rushing him on his way, as they heard car doors being slammed on the other side of the building. Paul and Scott ran in the direction she'd indicated, turning and waving before they got out of sight. Lisa turned to face the oncoming police.  
  
---  
  
In another town a few months later, Paul and Scott were passing a store with televisions in the window. The show being presented was a concert. They paused as the announcer said, "And now, in her comeback performance, Miss LISA HALL!" Paul and Scott stopped, looked at each other and smiled, then turned to the television.

Lisa began, "I have a special friend, who once told me I would sing again. I didn't believe him at the time. He told me when I did sing again, to remember him. I hope he can hear me. I want him to know, I will remember him every time I sing, for the rest of my life." She began to sing, a happy song full of love and joy, and as she sang, she used deaf sign language to share her music with those who couldn't hear her voice. Paul turned to Scott and smiled. "I wish I could sing like that."

"Oh, yeah? I thought you only liked 'Do-whop' songs."

Paul laughed, put his arm around Scott's shoulders, and began to sing as they walked down the street, "Do-whop-chee—wanny-wanny, do—whop—chee-wanny-wanny".

The End


End file.
